1000 Years
by FabulFuz
Summary: Lemonhope returns home after a thousand years or so, and lays down for his final rest, but is woken up by a couple of familiar faces. A series of stories about the lives of parents and child spent centuries apart.
1. Prologue

[A/N: I have a lot of feelings about lemons, ok? There weren't enough fics for this pair so I wrote my own.]

* * *

There's a faint ripple in this cozy stillness, a vaguely familiar voice, and it annoys him. He had decided that his journey was over, and taken comfort in the silence of this place. Just because he was tired of being free did not mean that he desired being bothered by anything. Whether it was his own mind or some outside influence he wasn't certain of yet. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep for ages.

"Softness! Come here! Quickly! It's one of our boys!"

"Are you certain, Bitters?...oh...It's...I think that's little Lemonhope."

He opens his ancient eyes with some effort, tries to recollect the two identical voices, one shaking with excitement, the other cautiously optimistic. Could it be the same person talking to themselves? The room looks the same as it did when he entered it and laid down upon the bed.

He sits up to find the source of the voice, and stares at the two figures huddled at the foot of his bed. They stare right back, wordless. Then the screaming starts. All three individuals yelling at each other, before deciding it's too much effort at their age and going quiet again.

The two elderly Earls, clothes a bit different, but still in the black and white themes he remembers, 'hmm' to each other thoughtfully. The lemon in black speaks first, then his brother.

"Mm, it is good to see you...alive."

"Yes, we never knew what became of you."

It's a strange moment for Lemonhope, seeing and hearing his earliest memories, that have been fuzzy and gone out of his mind for centuries, suddenly in startling reality. It's equally strange to see them so calm and cordial. He's not afraid of them anymore, and he was already prepared for death, but the whole encounter is intrusive and perplexing. He clears his throat.

"Hm, what happened here? I didn't see any signs of anyone when I arrived. I thought the kingdom was empty."

His makers frown in unison, brows furrowing. The earl in white speaks first this time.

"Mm-it is a very long story."

"Yes, centuries long. You would fall asleep again."

Lemon hope smiles a bit at that, curiosity peaked. In his time he had composed many songs, to tell the stories he had experienced and heard in his life.

"Hmmm that is alright, my story would take a long time to tell too. I came here to rest, and I'm too sore for traveling, so a story is a good way to pass the time."

They all agreed upon this, having grown past the age where squabbling or vengeance was worth anything. Nearly one thousand years had passed between the creators and their creation, after all. They spent their days and nights telling tales until their voices were hoarse, taking turns when one or the other had started losing the ability to speak.

They carefully avoided speaking of their transgressions, as they gathered bits of tattered scraps, and scratched words and musical notes into a patched-togther book with whatever pigments they could find at the end of their world. They already knew that story, and didn't care to hear it again.


	2. Firstborn

He's been staying in the crumbling castle with his creators for a few days now, and he is constantly baffled by how different they are from what he remembers. He doesn't have a single childhood memory of them on good terms with each other, isn't accustomed to the way they speak so gently to him. It almost revolts him.

The only time he's heard them raise their voices to one another, after they all went their separate ways to go to sleep, there was an abrupt silence and then they wished each other goodnight.

The three of them spend most of their waking hours underground, which has become an enormous labyrinth, built while Lemonhope was away. It's cozy enough, in the lowermost chambers, which seem to have been designed for people to live in regularly. The youngest lemon still finds it a bit stifling however, after spending so much time living out in the open air.

Today they all sit on a saggy, oval-cushioned couch that was once fancy and plush, and snack on lemon candy rations and sealed bottles of lemon-flavored water. Lemon hope looks back and forth between the two Earls as they set up the book and writing utensils for this session of stories. The two of them have been listening to Lemonhope's tales since his arrival with smiles and interest, but the more time goes by the more questions nag at him.

He has been reluctant to speak up, knowing from past experience that the Earls do best when they are allowed to run things, and they hate interruptions. As they look at him expectantly, the Earl in white with a quill in hand, he clears his throat nervously.

"I have many more stories..." he begins. They nod at him patiently.

"Hm-but, I still haven't heard about what happened here. What happened to the two of you after I left? I want to know, because it confuses me. You are both so mm, nice? To each other? I don't get it."

The earl in black looks embarrassed, and the one in white smiles knowingly at his twin. The elder brother fumbles a bit, trying to decide how to respond, and the younger quietly addresses him.

"Brother, may I tell this tale? Would you write it for me?"

"Mm, yes, I suppose that's acceptable."

The book trades hands, the earl in black now glancing back and forth between the pages and his other half's face. It will be interesting for him to hear how his brother tells the story, and it is something he already knows by heart, recording it here isn't really necessary. All the writing could be done later, but because the other asked so nicely, he tries to write it down here and now.

"Well...After you left the last time, Lemonhope, Mother Princess gathered us up and stitched us into one body. We healed back into a single person, and for a while that was enough...

Your siblings were taken care of, peace restored to our castle home, and everyone had enough to eat. But, we grew restless, unable to quiet our mind. The children became our caregivers, trying to keep us in good health, but it was not for them to do.

We set out from the castle to seek answers, to quiet our unrest, and we discovered how to be satisfied with who we are. But, in doing so we also opened the lid on our past deeds, and desired a way to undo what had been done..."

A much younger Earl climbs his way up a winding, treacherous path with a small wooden box tucked under his arm. He had ridden lemon-pegasus for most of the journey, but nearing his destination the way was covered in thick roots and brambles, so he was forced to go on foot. He had heard there was a witch who lived upon this particular mountain, deep in the thorny forest, who would grant a wish to anyone giving the proper payment.

At the end of a tunnel of thicket, he spots a dark entryway, and makes his way inside with his sword drawn. It's the opening to a cave, runic designs on the walls lighting up as he walks past. A little ways further and he hears a piercing laugh, and an old scratchy voice.

"Hark! Hark! Who's that? What do you want?"

The Earl raises his sword a little before replying.

"I want to see the prickle-witch! Are you she?"

"Who wants to know?!"

"Mmmmm-I am the Earl of Lemongrab! I have brought payment for a wish!"

"Ohh...But I do not hear another heart beating, only one, yours. Do you think I can be tricked?"

The Earl re-sheathes his sword, places a hand over the black and white diamond embroidered on his breast. Walks deeper into the cave, searching for the voice.

"Nn-No tricks! I have brought my firstborn! Mm-but can you really grant my wish? I am not so certain."

At that, there is a flash and smoke, the darkness of the cave illuminates, revealing a squat old woman with a shriveled, rabbit-like face. She beckons him closer with a long fingernail.

"Here. Bring it here. What do you want? What is your wish? Don't insult me with your doubting."

He complies reluctantly, stepping closer and opening the box to show her the contents.

"Ohh, what a _sweet_ little doll..."

The witch seems to like what she sees, and goes to reach for it, but the Earl closes the lid shut and pulls it back protectively. He glares at her suspiciously.

"Wish first, then payment! I do not give this away lightly!"

She makes a face.

"Hmph, a precious thing, of course it is not given lightly. You would be wise to not insult a witch's powers-"

"Wish first!"

"Fine fine, what is it you wish for?"

"I did great harm to my brother, and I wish to have him restored."

"How was he harmed?"

"I devoured him."

The hag looks mildly surprised, but shrugs it off. She's heard it all by now, and magic has a way of punishing fools.

"He won't be happy to see you..."

"I know."

The witch clucks her tongue and shakes her head, but shrugs.

"Very well, if that is what you wish."

For a moment, nothing happens, and the Earl glances around expectantly. Then, there's a very unpleasant sensation in his belly, a kind of jabbing, and he doubles over, clutching his stomach. He retches, and has a horrible feeling of deja vu as an arm emerges from his mouth.

In a span of seconds, another Lemongrab has pulled itself from out of his belly and lies exhausted and sticky on the cave floor. He stares at his twin wide-eyed, gasping and shaking on his hands and knees, in shock over the excruciating pain he just experienced. The witch surveys the scene with a smug smile.

"That was some of your payment to _him_. Now it's time for mine."

The eldest Earl struggles back to his feet without a word, stumbling in his own fluids, and hands the box over to the witch. He turns and unhooks a bit of rope from his belt, as the old woman lifts Lemonsweets from the box and coos over all the cracks in the doll's face. The freshly-reborn Earl stares at the toy from his position on the floor, seeing the painstakingly-mended porcelain shatter in his mind's eye as a pair of black boots fills his vision.

He's bare and cold, and here is his brother suddenly, binding him tightly with ropes and dragging him out of a place he isn't sure he knows. He tries to get to his feet as he's being pulled, if only to avoid the thorns along the path. He wants to ask questions, but his throat is raw and nothing comes out but wheezes.

They eventually make their way back to lemon-pegasus, and his feet are sore without shoes to protect them from the sharp plants and rocks. He's a little bit glad when his brother hoists him over his old mount's back, but also afraid, not knowing what the other plans to do next. The older brother, looking a bit haggard, gives him a weary look over the shoulder as he takes up the reins, and tucks a horse blanket around the nude lemon before they take off. The bound brother squirms under it for awhile, whining about the itchiness, but at least it's warm.

He must have fallen asleep during the flight, because he opens his eyes to a familiar room, and sits up in a familiar bed, dressed in familiar white night-clothes.

"Sir?"

"Lemonsoft?"

The storyteller is now snoring softly against the sofa, having dozed off at the thought of his bed. Lemon hope and his other maker share an awkward silence, and the youngest one feels an old twinge of fear in his gut. He wants to hear more of the story, but is hesitant to say so.

The lemon child is indifferent towards the earl in white, who was equally as indifferent towards him in the past, but never unkind. The one in black though...he remembers the sensation of dread he felt when he was around him. Especially when they were alone.

"Time for sleeping."

Lemon hope hears the tone of the other's voice and knows it's an announcement, a statement, not to be questioned. He nods in hasty agreement, wide-eyed, and gets up stiffly to leave the room. The earl watches him for a moment, getting the feeling that there is something else he should say. Something parental. Something kind. Something Lemonsoft would say.

"Does your body creak like ours? Stay here. No sense walking all the way to the surface level. Extra blankets in the chest there."

It's a command, and Lemonhope frowns, almost argues, chastising himself for cowing earlier. He's far from being a child anymore and shouldn't fear his 'parents'. The earl is no longer paying attention to him however.

Lemonhope watches in stunned fascination as the meaner of the two earls plants a kiss on the other's temple and scoops him up from the couch. There's a sleepy murmur of assent and then the older cradles the younger against his chest as he carries his brother from the room. The aging lemonchild is baffled by the display, but too tired to stubbornly walk back up to his room, so he makes himself a bed on the sofa. He reasons he'll surely hear more of this story when he wakes again.


End file.
